


Kiddo

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Banter, Boys Being Boys, Brain Damage, Chronic Pain, Conversations, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Explosions, Fatherhood, Grief/Mourning, Grumpy Old Men, Guilt, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Heart Attacks, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Kinks, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phobias, Pillow Talk, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Psychological Trauma, Robots, Scents & Smells, Self-Hatred, Survivor Guilt, Tex is a horny old bastard, Tex knows what he likes, Trauma, eardrums bleeding, old men having sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tex came out of retirement out of necessity, poverty, and the need to escape his grief. </p><p>He hadn't known he'd get shot, but really, he wished the bullet had killed him.</p><p>When he meets Craig Boone, the man's no better, but that, at least, makes sense. </p><p>(a.k.a. the one where 65-year-old!Courier winds up helping Boone work through his issues, while Boone does the same for him)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate me completing a huge fic, I've started... another fic. This is based on the fact that I finally got all the expansions/dlc's for Fallout: NV and am replaying the game from scratch. The character I made is an old gunslinger named Tex. He hangs out with Boone a lot. They're both primarily snipers, so mostly they just sit around and shoot stuff from a distance.
> 
> Somehow I thought this would be a good enough starting point for a slash fic - it's high time I tried to write Boone.
> 
> This thing will be updated when it's updated. Also, Tex seems like a bit of a douche in this chapter, but he's just a miserable bastard, for reasons which will be fully explained later.

* * *

The sun coming up over the horizon might’ve been pretty to some starry-eyed city slicker, but all it did was make Tex wish he’d rationed his pills a little better. This is what his life had come to: looking through dumpsters to supplement his worsening drug habit as he hobbled in the direction of a giant dinosaur, and all on the anniversary of a day he’d prefer to forget.

 _Bullet shoulda done me in,_ he grumbled. Still, no sense in whining. Whining was for folks young and pretty enough to get away with it. He was neither, so he shouldered his pack and kept on putting one foot in front of the other.

Novac was exactly what he’d expected: dusty, boring, straight-laced. On any day when his head wasn’t throbbing, he’d have appreciated the work ethic of the men and women who’d made a go of it in the old motel. As it was, Jeannie May could’ve spat in his face for all he cared. All that mattered to him was renting a room and taking a load off. If he could sleep then maybe the pain wouldn’t be so bad. The nightmares would come, but then, who didn’t have their fair share of nightmares these days?

Of course, knowing how common they were didn’t make them less upsetting. If the stifling heat didn’t do him in, the dreams and the headaches would. He touched the scar on his scalp and cursed.

Fresh air – cooler now that night was fallen – wasn’t much of a remedy, but it was all he had. He paced around the lot for a while before curiosity got the better of him and he paid a visit to the inside of the dinosaur.

The gift shop owner seemed like a decent guy, and when he offered to play some Caravan with Tex, the old man couldn’t refuse. He knew it was as good as wishing on a star, but he put up the few caps he had left anyway. Maybe his luck would help him on his terms, for once.

“You alright, man?” Cliff asked. “Only you look like you could use a little help.”

“A little is an understatement,” Tex grimaced. Cliff played a jack, the smart bastard, and decimated the only one of Tex’s caravans that had had any chance of winning. He must’ve known how hard up the old man was from the look on his face, because he immediately forfeited the winnings.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Cliff said, and pushed the caps back across the countertop. Tex glowered.

“I don’t need no charity. Go on. You keep ‘em. Won ‘em fair and square.”

Cliff shrugged, and went back to fiddling with the radio.

The stairs outside the dino were as good a place as any to get wicked drunk. Tex kissed his final bottle of whiskey before pulling the cork out with his teeth and taking a swig of the cheap hooch. His eyes watered and he shivered, the night air blowing through his old bones like they were an abandoned shack.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t a greeting.

Tex looked up at one of the two resident snipers, unimpressed.

“You got a problem, kiddo?”

The man’s mouth curled into a frown.

“You’re sitting on the steps.”

Tex snorted.

“You earn that badge on your _bear-ray_ for bein’ observant, there, hotshot?”

He leaned against the side of the dinosaur.

“There. Gave you space to go by. Why don’t you run along and go play with your gun, and leave an old man out here to drink in peace?”

The young man’s expression shifted to something almost like… reluctant concern.

“It’s getting cold. You should go inside, get to bed.”

_So I inspire pity, now. Fantastic._

“Who in the hell gave you the authority to tell me what to do, boy?” Tex spat. This got a rise out of the soldier, who bristled.

“Get the fuck off the stairs.”

Tex shook his head.

“Free country. Well. It was. Still is until somebody blinks first. NCR, Legion… I’m too old to give a damn about it either way.”

He took another burning swallow of liquor.

“The NCR will be doing your drunk ass a favor, saving you from those Legion freaks,” the sniper hissed. Tex shook his head.

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. You really think the military gives a damn about men like me, or you for that matter? It don’t care about nothin’ but savin’ its own skin. Just because you put on a uniform doesn’t mean they have your back – shit, I learned that the fuckin’ hard way.”

Tex sighed.

“Nah. Fuckin’ forget it. No damn use – they train you boys up so you don’t listen to old guys like me when we try to warn you. I might as well be talkin’ to a pile of Brahmin shit for all the good it’ll get me.”

Boone blinked.

“Get off the stairs.”

For some reason, that made Tex see red. He always called ‘em right the first time. He knew the kid’d be smart as a box of cram. If he couldn’t talk sense into him, maybe he’d be able to knock it in.

“Goddamn idiot children think they know everything these days – that what you want, bucko? You wanna fight an old man? Go ahead – go ahead and fuckin’ hit me, I dare you! Or do you not have the balls for a little hand-to-hand combat?”

Tex expected to be hurt for that one, but he still flinched when the younger man grabbed him by the shirt collar, dragged him to his feet, and slammed him against the door.

“Stop baiting me you geriatric prick,” he growled. “You think you had a hard life? Look around you – you’re not fucking special. We all have shit that keeps us awake at night but most of us can man up enough to do our binge drinking in private. No one wants to watch your one-man pity show.”

His voice was virtually monotone and the words were all quietly said under his breath, but the sniper’s tone was so biting it froze Tex where he stood.

_Your warnings didn’t fall on deaf ears, ya damn idiot. This one’s already seen it all first hand._

“Alright, soldier – keep your shirt on. I’m a-goin’.”

He staggered back to the motel stairs, weaving slightly and clinging to the railing as he made his way up to his room.

“You see me? I’m a-goin’ like you asked,” he shouted in the young man’s general direction. He could barely see. How had it gotten this late – how had he gotten this drunk?

“Fuckin’ stupid kid,” he mumbled as he kicked off his boots and locked the door behind him for the night. He pulled his shirt off and flopped down onto the bed, not bothering to undress any further. His eyes leaked onto the pillow. It was too soft – he didn’t deserve it.

_You couldn’t save this one, either. Face it, Tex – your gift of the gab is gone. Your baby boy is gone. There’s nothin’ in the world you can do to make it any better._

Dignity was in short supply in the wasteland, but Tex still felt ashamed and disgusted with himself as he sobbed impotently into the too-soft pillow, old and sick and worn down to nothing. The real twist of the knife was the realization that he wasn’t even crying for his son anymore. He was crying for his own sorry hide.

_Bullet shoulda done it. Maybe you can track that Benny fella down – get him to finish the job. Maybe there’s a lovin’ God up there and you’ll get one o’ them fast-actin’ cancers._

_Bullet shoulda motherfuckin’ done it. Goddamn stupid luck._

Sleep, when it finally came, was just a different kind of hell from waking.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Tex wasn’t the kind of man who liked to leave things ugly. Not if he could put ‘em right. The beginnings of withdrawal combined with a hangover did not leave him at his best, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least go and apologize to that sniper kid the following morning.

He found him as he was heading back from the night shift. He nodded in greeting. The kid nodded back.

“Mornin’,” Tex ventured. The kid grunted.

“Look, can I say somethin’?”

Boone shrugged.

“Sure.”

“I’m a real ass when I’m drinkin’.”

Boone snorted.

“I know it’s redundant to say it, but it’s true. But one thing I ain’t is fond of startin’ things off on the wrong foot. Y'caught me on a helluva bad night. Name’s Tex.”

He offered his hand. Boone considered it for a moment before shaking it.

“Boone.”

“Well. Just wanted t’ clear the air. Wasn't personal - my mouthin' off at ya. Anyway… see y’around, Boone”

Tex was just about to go when Boone cleared his throat.

“… wait. Look, I… I wasn’t much better.”

Tex sighed and scratched his jaw.

“You’re off duty now, right?”

Boone furrowed his brow and nodded.

“Got a coupl’a warm beers up in my room. They probably taste like old piss, but one of ‘em has your name on it, if y'want it.”

Boone narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just don’t like drinkin’ alone. Find I tend to go a little overboard with it when there’s no one around to watch my back.”

Boone stood for a minute, mulling it over. That suited Tex just fine – he remember his boy was always ten steps ahead, always good with numbers and fancy words. Tex was no slouch, but it’d made him feel like he always had to race just to keep up. Boone was methodical; Tex could appreciate that.

“Okay,” the sniper said at last. “Just one beer.”

“Only got the two,” Tex said by way of reassurance. They were silent the rest of the way to the rented room. Once inside, Tex put on the radio and dug out the beers. He opened them with the lower edge of his belt buckle and handed one over to Boone.

“Take a seat,” he said. Boone followed the order immediately. Tex hummed to himself. Chalk another point up for the kid. Boone had fixed his eyes on something in the corner. Tex followed his gaze and flinched when he saw the small pile of empty syringes and pill bottles.

“You’re an addict,” Boone said. _Shit – the kid doesn’t pull his punches._

“Didn’t used to be. Not until… I was doin’ fine, see. Then I got this –”

Tex pointed to the scar on his head.

“Did’y’ever have what they call a migraine headache, son? It’s like a grenade went off behind your eyes. The light’s too bright, the whole world is blarin’ louder than anythin’ y’ever heard. I’ve had one for the past two months.”

Boone nodded in what might’ve been sympathy.

“Sounds rough.”

“It is. I don’t like takin’ chems but I don’t have much choice anymore. Without somethin’ to take the edge off, I can’t shoot straight, and even if I could, the sound alone would probably kill me. But still, y'caught me on a bad day. I apologize.”

Boone shrugged.

“Shit happens.”

“You’re right about that.”

Tex contemplated elaborating on his circumstance. On the one hand, he’d done enough to make up for his attitude, and he wasn’t exactly fond of all that emotional sharing crap. On the other hand, something about Boone made him think the kid might understand.

“I had a son. Buck.”

Boone, who’d been staring absently into his beer, looked over.

“Had.”

Tex nodded. “Had.”

He took a swallow, lips curling at the taste of warm, bitter hops.

“We never saw eye to eye. Kid was a damn know-it-all, just like his mother. She’s long gone – just up and left one day. Said she had adventurin’ to do. So we were all each other had, my boy and me.”

He sighed, feeling every one of his sixty-five long, exhausting years.

“He thought he knew best – thought if his old man could hack it as a gun for hire, so could he. I told him there was more out there for him. He didn’t have to join a gang or an army. He coulda been anythin’ he wanted. But the damn kid wanted to be a hero, and my disapproval just made him want to leave all the sooner.”

Tex shook his head.

“I shoulda stopped him. Shoulda laid down the law – I always was too soft on him after his mother left. Never hit him enough. My old man used t’whip the tar outta me and I listened to him till the day he died.”

Boone cocked his head a little.

“What happened to him?”

“He died,” Tex answered, “but I’m guessin’ you’d already figured that much out. Stupid kid went off to join the NCR last year. He didn’t even make it outta trainin’. Sharpest mind in the whole damn desert and he dies practicin’ how to place mines. They had the decency to send me a letter. A whole ten words – would ya believe that? ‘We regret to inform you your son has been killed.’ That’s it. That and his belongings. When he left that house, he left it angry, and I let him leave. I as good as blew him up myself.”

Boone went back to staring at his beer.

“I –” he began, but Tex cut him off.

“Look, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve had enough folks tell me they’re sorry and it does fuck all. I ain’t tellin’ y’outta pity. I’m just tellin’ ya.”

Boone shook his head.

“Not what I was gonna say.”

Tex furrowed his brow.

“I know what it feels like,” Boone muttered. “Losing family.”

Tex flinched. Poor kid. That explained a fair bit.

“Who…?”

“My wife. She was pregnant.”

Remorse was like ice in Tex’s gut.

“Jesus. That’s…”

He racked his brain trying to think of a word that wouldn’t sound patronizing – a word that wouldn’t piss him off, if someone were to say it about his boy.

“That’s a helluva thing.”

Boone’s mouth twitched. The ghost of a humorless smile.

“Nothing else like it.”

Then the young sniper asked Tex if he’d help him. The kid hadn’t even had to finish saying what he needed – Tex agreed in a heartbeat.

“People always say ‘if there’s anything I can do,’ but they never mean it. Well, son, I mean it. I’ll turn over every rock. I’ll break a few fingers, if I have to. There’s two kindsa folks in this world. Folks like us, what get the Lord’s punishment, and folks like the sick bastards who sold out your wife. Way I see it, there’s nobody else tryin’ t’get justice ‘round here. Might as well be us.”

Boone’s mouth twitched in agreement.

“Yeah.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added this little scene in since there was a (good) point made that the pacing for this story seemed a bit uneven. I'm not used to having to slow fics down - usually it's the other way around. Sorry about this lol.

* * *

Tex had been sure that, one way or another, finding out about Jeannie May would’ve sparked a reaction. Boone didn’t seem like the tearful type, but he supposed you never could tell. Anger was more likely, and maybe a sense of vindication at finally having been proved right in believing someone had benefitted from his family’s tragedy. There were no coincidences, not on this godforsaken planet.

There was nothing. That’s what disturbed him. He’d been prepared for anything but that.

Boone looked at him like he’d heard, but like it changed very little. The truth was worth less than Boone had thought – Tex recognized the expression as one he’d worn himself.

“Would it make y’feel better t’talk about it?”

Boone shrugged, turning and squinting down at Jeannie May’s broken body.

“Would it make y’feel better t’leave?”

Boone glanced at him.

“And go where?”

Tex waved his hand around vaguely.

“Who knows? I never bother much with long-term plans of attack these days. I do know I want to make some money and get back on my feet. There might be some adventure in it, if you’re game.”

Boone didn’t take the bait. Tex sighed.

“Look, kiddo, you’ve had all the direct revenge you’re likely to get. I can’t take revenge on the whole damned military for what happened to my boy. Way I see it, our best bet is to keep lookin’ around and crushin’ out the evil in the world everywhere we go. There’s no shortage of it – we won’t be bored.”

He paused, then added,

“Plus, I like you.”

Boone’s eyebrow twitched.

“It’s true. You’re not an idiot like most people. Most folks don’t understand sufferin’ like we do. We punished people oughta stick to one another… for support, like.”

Boone turned back to stare out of the mouth of the dinosaur. Tex waited around for a while before accepting his defeat and pushing open the door. He had one foot on the stairs when the young sniper broke the silence.

“Wait. I’m coming with you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of note: there's been a time jump. Jeannie May has been killed and the guys have been travelling together long enough for Tex to earn some more caps.
> 
> UPDATE: there is now a preceding scene to fill in some of the time jump

* * *

“Partnership – and that’s what we have, kiddo, a partnership – needs a steady supply of good will to keep running smoothly.”

Those had been the words Tex has used to persuade Boone to come with him to the Strip. He’d resisted at first – more than most men his age would have, but in the end, the young sniper had agreed.

Tex wasn’t talking out of his ass, either. He’d been around long enough to know that good times were few and far between. Plus, it gave them a goal – something to push for. They took their time on the way there, shooting bad guys and whatever hostile wildlife they tangled with. They made a good team – Boone was an asset and soon Tex wondered how he’d gotten by without the kid picking off long-range targets for him as he sneaked in close to make a kill with his silenced 22.

They didn’t talk much, but they didn’t have to. All in all, Tex couldn’t ask for a better travelling companion.

Plus, if he was being honest with himself, Boone was pretty easy on the eyes.

Not that he would do anything about it, of course. Neither of them would benefit from that line of thinking.

The sun bore down on the back of Tex’s neck. He itched – he’d have a hell of a burn by the time they made it to Freeside.

“Careful – there’s a fiend at nine o’–”

“Got ‘em.”

The bullet made a neat little hole in the back of the woman’s head. Tex shook his head, grinning.

“Military trained you good, son.”

Boone grunted an affirmative, making a quick visual scan of the area.

“That’s the last of ‘em,” he said.

“Looks like smooth sailin’ from here on out,” Tex agreed, squinting to make out the gates that opened onto their destination. “By the way, I know a guy – two guys, actually. Locals. Run a store. One of ‘em is real into guns. When we get in, I’m gonna trade in my gear for somethin’ better, make a pit stop. You interested? I can spot you the caps if you want anythin’.”

Boone shook his head.

“I’m good.”

Tex shrugged.

“Suit yourself, kiddo. At least let me buy you some ammo, then.”

Boone didn’t respond. There was nothing but silence between them until they reached the gates. As they crossed the threshold into Freeside, Boone suddenly spoke.

“Why’re y’doing this? Bribing me?”

Tex snorted.

“Bribin’ ya? Son, I’m not bribin’ ya. I’m just takin’ care of us both. Way I see it, I’d be doin’ the same for myself if you weren’t taggin’ along. ‘sides that, I’m a generous person.”

He yawned and pointed a ways ahead of them.

“Mick and Ralph's?”

“That’s the place. They’re nice fellas, all in all.”

When they reached the entrance of the store, a strange look came over Tex’s face. He pulled out the pouch he kept his caps in, removed a handful for himself, and handed the rest to Boone.

“Here. Take this. Get me a huntin’ rifle. And trade in some of this junk.”

He passed Boone all the energy weapons he’d picked up since they’d left Novac.

“Get me real firepower. None of this light-up shit. You’ll have to ask to see the stuff off the record. Just tell ‘em I sent you.”

“You’re not coming in?”

Tex shook his head.

“Gotta take care of somethin’. I’ll meet you out front. Get yourself anythin’ y’want.”

Boone looked concerned, but he nodded and left.

Dixon was waiting where he always was. When he laid his eyes on Tex, he grinned.

“Hey, man. Back in town so soon?”

Tex shrugged.

“Takin’ a friend out for a good time.”

Dixon’s eyes lit up.

“What you lookin’ to buy?”

“Nothin’ for him.”

The drug dealer’s face fell.

“Just my usual. Make it quick,” Tex mumbled, handing over his caps. As Dixon supplied him, he voiced his observation.

“You’re twitchier than usual. What’s up?”

“Nothin',” Tex grit out through his teeth. “I just don’t need him to see this, when he gets back.”

Dixon’s eyes widened.

“Your new boy-toy doesn’t know about your habit?”

“He’s not my boy-toy. And yes, he knows, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. Shut up and give me my shit.”

Dixon nodded.

“Alright, man. Keep your shirt on. There y’go. The usual.”

Tex spit out a bitter ‘thanks’ and made his way back to the doors, stashing all but one dose in his bag. He went behind a building to take it, and the relief was immediate as the pain in his head turned into something softer, warmer. He sighed and wandered back around to wait for the kid.

“Hey there.”

He looked over and flinched.

“Damn, you can hide in plain sight, Rotface. Nearly made me shit myself.”

Rotface cracked a grin.

“Would’ve been funny. What’s new? Didn’t expect you back so soon. Who’s the soldier?”

“Ex-soldier. He’s a friend.”

“A friend friend? Or a friend?”

“A friend.”

Tex took a seat beside the beggar with a weary grunt. He pressed his last cap into the ghoul’s scarred palm.

“You want a tip from me?”

“Mm.”

“Quit fuckin’ him.”

If he hadn’t been doped up, that would’ve made Tex angry. As it was, it just made him shake his head.

“M’not.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t start. Not that it’s my business, but it would be… nasty.”

“Huh?”

“The kid’s former NCR and the same age as your son? I’ve heard of unconventional grievin' but that’s just plain creepy.”

Tex scowled.

“Didn’t ever… never wanted to. With my boy. Never.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“M’serious. That’s sick.”

“Didn’t say it wasn’t. I’m just sayin’, to the outside observer, it’d be pretty strange.”

Tex mumbled something incoherent, head lolling forwards as a bit of drool dripped from his mouth onto his shirt.

“Shit. You’re a mess,” Rotface sneered. “Look out – here comes your ‘friend’ now.”

Tex looked up in the direction of the doors. Boone was standing there, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey, kiddo. Jus’… jus’ give me a minute. I’ll be ship-shape in no time.”

Boone frowned, but didn’t leave. He stared at the pavement under his feet as though it contained unspeakable wonders. Tex was true to his word. The initial shock to his system gave way pretty fast and he was on his feet again in no time. His eyes were a little red and his vision was a little fuzzy, but he was walking, at least.

“See y’, ugly,” he called to the ghoul, who waved in response. He hurried over to Boone, who shoved a new hunting rifle and a box of ammo into his hands before turning and walking away.

“Boone – where’re y’ goin’?”

Boone faltered, as though he honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. Tex jogged the rest of the way over, wheezing.

“I’ll get us put up at the Wrangler,” he said. Then “C’mon, kiddo. Don’t be like this – you knew.”

Boone didn’t react. Tex sighed and shook his head.

“Look, if you want to stand out here in the road all night, be my guest. I’m turning in.”

He knew it was dismissive of him – maybe a little insulting. Paternalistic, certainly. He wasn’t Boone’s dad. But whenever his boy had pulled this silent treatment shit, threats of abandonment had always been Tex’s easy win. He was three feet away, hope rapidly waning, before he heard the tell-tale sound of Boone’s footfalls as he followed him. He grinned to himself. It felt good to be forgiven.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol idk. this whole fic is probably terrible. i have not slept in days and my judgement is WRECKED.

* * *

“Please assume the position.”

The panic that those little words had instilled in Tex was still with him after he’d sweet-talked his way out of robot rape and was making back to the Atomic Wrangler. Boone followed at his heels, a question in his silence.

“I don’t like robots.”

It sounded fairly innocuous. Boone nodded.

“It’s a pretty strange thing to be into.”

“No, I don’t mean… I don’t want to fuck 'em, but I don’t like being near 'em, either.”

Boone considered this.

“Do you know what the word ‘phobia’ means, kid?”

He shook his head.

“It’s the kind of fear that twists your guts up inside ya. And usually, it don’t make a lick o’ sense.”

Boone shrugged.

“There’s some sense in being wary of robots. They’re bigger and stronger than you. That just seems natural,” he reasoned.

Tex, though still pale and a little sweaty, looked relieved.

“Do they…?”

“They don’t bother me.”

“Right.”

They walked on. Boone spoke up in that hesitant way he always did. Tex didn't mind. So the kid wasn’t a gifted conversationalist. So what?

“Must’ve been weird – finding out a robot saved your life.”

Tex had told Boone about Victor a while ago. It had just come up one day, when he was talking about his awakening in Goodsprings over tepid Nuka Cola and unevenly grilled mantis.

“Wasn’t pleasant,” he admitted. “Victor’s an odd one. But at least he sounds more like a person. I don’t like him, but it’s better than those damned Protectrons. At least the Securitrons have faces drawn on ‘em.”

Boone considered this mutely.

“So, once we turn this damned thing over to James Garret, we’re good to go,” Tex stated. "I’ll have enough caps to make it to the Strip, and after that, we’re golden.”

“What’s on the Strip?” Boone asked with just the faintest touch of inflection revealing his interest. “Aside from stuff you can get out here.”

“I’m not goin’ t’party, kid. I’m goin’ t’the Monorail.”

Boone’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“Got a few things to settle with the NCR. Don’t look like that – I’m not gonna bomb the place, Jesus! I'm old, not nuts. I want to help ‘em.”

Boone’s expression went from alarmed to confused.

“Thing is, sonny, the NCR was more of a father t’my boy than I ever managed to be. I tried my best, but he made his choice in th’end. Much as it kills me to admit it, that means a helluva lot.”

The sniper stared at him. They didn’t ever really talk politics.

“If it comes down to it, I’m sidin’ with what my boy woulda wanted,’ Tex clarified. Boone nodded slowly.

“... makes sense,” he said at last. “That’s a smart way to go about… things.”

“Ain’t it?”

The door to the Wrangler stood before them now. Tex sighed and gestured at it.

“Once we get paid, feel free to screw somethin’.”

“W-what?” Boone was uncharacteristically caught off guard.

“I mean, we’ll have the caps. And who knows when we’ll next roll through here. Not that there’s a helluva lot of selection. But like I’ve said – you need somethin’, you speak up. Team maintenance – I’ll cover it.”

Boone shook his head, and if Tex didn’t know better he’d swear the kid was blushing beneath those sunglasses. _Probably just my eyes going…_

“Y’sure? You’re wound up pretty tight, there, hotshot.”

Boone clenched his jaw.

“M’good.”

Tex shrugged.

“Suit yourself, kiddo. Hope you don’t mind if I –?”

“Uh. Go ahead.”

Tex shouldered through the door and sidled up to James Garret.

“We found one o’ them ol’ fuckmachine thingamajigs in the robot store, so go on an’ pay up, Jimbo.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Boone's a little scarred by Tex's bedroom adventures...  
> (Also, I estimated Old Ben's age... and may've been a bit steep in my guess, but I'm stickin' to it for the time being.)

* * *

Tex rolled off the prostitute with a wheeze, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, his chest heaving.

“Well, glory be. Haven’t had a workout like that in a while. Ugh, my back…”

“My knees,” his bedmate chuckled. Tex grinned.

“My knees too.”

Old Ben snorted.

“Don’t you start whining – I’m older than you.”

Tex’s eyes widened.

“Since when? I’m –”

“Sixty-five. You told me last time you were here.”

“And you’re?”

“An even sixty-eight,” the older man said smugly.

“Good Lord. And you’re still lettin’ the Garrets whore you out?”

“Hey, it was your idea!” Old Ben laughed. Tex joined him, sitting up with a groan.

“Retirement’s a joke these days,” he said through a yawn, and Old Ben guffawed.

“You got that right. There’s – under the nightstand. Rags. Clean the cum off yourself. And throw me one – we’re too old to get away with looking this debauched.”

As Tex wiped down his stomach, Old Ben kept speaking. His tone changed, though, and he lay a hand on Tex’s bare thigh.

“Hey, how was the anniversary?”

Tex shrugged.

“Not great. I got shitfaced, but then, I was doin’ that when Buck was still breathin’.”

“Word on the street is you’re dating a guy about his age.”

“Who the – goddamn it. Has Rotface been tellin' people that? I will shove my foot so far up his ghoul ass, I swear –”

“Is it true?”

“No! You’d think the only thing people want t’do these days is figure out who I’m stickin’ my dick in. Besides, if I was fuckin’ him, d’you think I’d have hired you? No offense – I just mean because I’d already be gettin’ it regular, like.”

“None taken. I’d figured you weren’t. I just wondered. He seems a little…”

“What?”

“Don’t get defensive. A little shell-shocked, is all I was going to say.”

“Yeah, well. Who isn’t these days?”

Tex got up from the bed and shimmied into his clothes. He rooted around in his bag and retrieved his caps.

“Here y’go.”

“You know I’d fuck you for free, right?” Old Ben grinned. “Not that I object to your paying me, of course.”

“Of course.”

“It’s working hours, so favoritism doesn’t apply.”

“Do I look like I’m complainin'? If I ever meet someone who can do the shit you do for free, I’ll marry him.”

“I’d go to your wedding.”

Tex scoffed.

“Yeah, and eat all the damn food, I bet.”

“Do you expect any less of me?”

 “Stop being endearing. You’ll make me get attached.”

Tex was still grinning to himself as swaggered down the stairs, and it wasn’t all from the sex. Old Ben was something of a friend to him. Then again, he had a history of befriending his whores, if his ex-wife was anything to go by.

His smile faltered somewhat when he noticed Boone. He’d hoped the kid would grab a drink or play some cards or at the very least take in some of Hadrian’s show, but Boone wasn’t even looking at the stage. He was standing in a similar pose to the guards who watched the door, staring at his boots.

“Have you… have you been standin’ here this whole time?”

Boone was tomato red behind his sunglasses. He nodded. Tex groaned inwardly – he hadn’t expected an ex-military man to act like such a damned prude about such things. It was throwing him off and making him embarrassed.

“Did you… want anythin’? Booze or… maybe some chips? The slots here are pretty fun.”

Boone shook his head.

“No thanks.”

“You hungry? We can go get some food, if you want.”

Boone faltered, torn between his discomfort and the kind of gnawing hunger that all athletic young men are plagued by at his age.

“Brahmin steaks with veg. On me. Whaddaya say, son? Maybe afterwards we can go do a little shootin’ or somethin’?”

The sniper went back to glaring at his boots.

“Sounds good,” he mumbled finally, and Tex clapped him hard on the shoulder.

“There y’go! You need to learn to enjoy yourself some more, son. Grief’s a hell of a thing, but it don’t do to be anythin’s bitch, especially not emotional shit. That’s for sissies and pretty girls, got it?”

Boone nodded more vigorously.

“Yes sir.”

“Attaboy. C’mon, let’s get some feed in ya.”

Tex turned and made off towards the door. For once, Boone walked in step with him, and not behind.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

The Courier awoke in the early hours to the sound of Boone puttering around their rented room in Vault 21. Old habits died hard, it seemed, as the kid, in preparation for their visit to Camp McCarran, was showered and shaved, and sat, boots in his lap, working globs of spit over their surface until they shone. A quick glance at the clock revealed it wasn’t even 06:00.

“Reckon you’ll pass inspection?” Tex drawled, rolling over to face his traveling companions. Boone froze, and the rare sight of his naked eyes, wide and startled, made the older man chuckle.

“Relax. Don’t stop on my account. Way I see it, one of us oughta look respectable.”

He appraised Boone’s work with a low whistle.

“Say, you’ve got a knack for that, boyo. Fancy polishin’ mine up good?”

Boone shrugged.

“Okay.”

He got up and retrieved them before sitting back on the bed. Tex sighed and stretched as best he could without leaving the warmth of his blankets. He watched the motion of Boone’s hands working rhythmically over the surface of the boots. After a few minutes, the young man noticed and looked up.

“What?”

Tex shook his head.

“Nothin’! Nothin’… just… strikes me as funny, is all. You bein’ so quiet. I can see why you’d be a good fit for the military. Y’don’t run your mouth.”

Boone stared at the boots in his lap.

“My Buck,” Tex clarified. “That boy was always jawin’ about somethin’ or other. Books mostly. I’m a poor reader, so he’d read every book he could find and tell ‘em all t’ me.”

He let out a deep groan and covered his face with his hand.

“I bet y’reckon I taught him t’ talk too much, huh?” he laughed. Boone shrugged. His hand slowly began to move once more.

“… no,” he said at last. “I get it.”

Tex grinned into his palm.

“Y’ do, though, don’t ya? You’re a really good kid, y’know that?”

Boone didn’t reply, his eyes downcast. Pretty eyes, in their own way, Tex thought _._ Long lashes, like a girl’s. _No wonder he hid ‘em behind those glasses._

_And you can stop thinkin’ like that right now._

Tex, now fully awake, sat up in bed, crossing his legs and stretching again. He turned to Boone and cleared his throat.

“I have to ask… did I… did I piss ya off?”

Boone furrowed his brow, confused.

“At the Wrangler,” Tex clarified. Boone’s cheeks colored and he dropped his eyes again.

“No.”

“Look, if it bothers you, my offerin’ t’ pay for someone for you, I didn’t mean t’ imply that y’ couldn’t find someone on your own.”

“It’s not that.”

The younger man scratched his head, his movements stilted and awkward.

“Just… didn’t have you pegged for a queer… is all.”

Tex snorted. He couldn’t help it. This only served to further confuse the kid.

“I’m not ‘a queer.’ I was married for Christ’s sake!”

Boone shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible.

“Look, it’s like this. Y’know how some folks only like liquor, and some folks only like beer?”

Boone nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s the same with people. Some folks like ladies. Some folks like fellas. Me, so long as it’s living, human, and enjoyin’ itself, I don’t care. Difference is, I can fuck any fella I like and not risk makin’ any more little ones. At my age, that’s a concern – I doubt I have more than five years left in me. ‘sides that, men just smell better.”

Boone looked doubtful.

“I was with you up until the end,” he said. “There’s no way you think men smell better than women. Women are designed to smell good.”

“I think it’s an acquired taste. Men smell different. Stronger. Muskier. I happen to appreciate that. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t get it up for pussy. Just means I’d be happy either way.”

Boone rolled the idea around in his head a while before raising his wrist to his nose and taking a cursory sniff.

“I don’t get it.”

Tex laughed.

“Well, I’m not talkin’ about smellin’ people’s wrists, kiddo. _Think_ about it. The last time you ever fucked a girl, did her cunt smell different than the rest of her?”

Boone nodded.

“Yeah, I guess. I never spent a lot of time down there.”

“What, you never ate a girl out?”

Boone shook his head.

“I’ve done it. I just didn’t think about what she smelled like.”

“What the hell _did_ you think about?”

“Whether or not I was doing it right,” Boone stated flatly, as if the answer was obvious. Tex resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Still. You acknowledge it had a smell, don’t ya?”

“Sure.”

“Then _that’s_ what I’m sayin’. Parts o' th' body that get warm easy smell different. Better. Scalps, cunts, under the arms. They just have more smell to ‘em. An' men smell stronger an' that's allurin'.”

Boone lifted his arm and sniffed. Tex waited.

“Well?”

“Smells like an armpit.”

The older man shook his head.

“Some people, I tell ya. I’m a connoisseur of th’ human form.”

“You’re a dirty old man.”

Tex was taken aback, but when he caught the flash of a smirk that quirked Boone’s lips, he chuckled.

“You’re damn right. I’m also grungy as all hell so I’ma gonna go grab a shower. Can’t have you upstagin’ me for our meetin’ with th’ Colonel.”

Boone’s eyebrows shot skywards.

“We’re meeting with a Colonel?”

Tex heaved himself out of bed in response, wincing as his bare feet made contact with the cold vault floor.

“Look alive, soldier,” he grinned on his way out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Being at Camp McCarran was awkward at first. Tex wasn’t sure how Boone would respond to it, and the kid seemed just as on edge about Tex’s reactions. While they were both allied with the NCR, they also each had enough baggage to make such a visit pretty complicated.

Still, the tension eased a bit once Tex tried his hand at doing a few good turns. Boone was about as useful as a box of InstaMash in a gunfight when it came to helping Corporal Betsy work through her trauma, but he proved his worth and then some when it was time to earn some bounty and bag some Fiend heads. Tex knew the kid was itching to go butcher the Legion, but psychopathic pyromaniac rapists were okay stand-ins for the time being.

Everything was going… surprisingly well, which surprised both men. Tex always had a very hot and cold relationship with Lady Luck. Life had taught him that long before he’d ever learned to gamble. Normally, he regarded good times with scepticism – something bad would only come along and ruin them soon enough, yet the more time he spent at Camp McCarran, the less he was worried. Even his headaches seemed to improve as he got more than a few hours’ sleep each night.

“I get it,” he said to Boone over some rations that Major Dhatri had been able to spare. “Why this life appeals to people. I mean, It ain’t ranchin’, but I can see why my boy went in for it. It’s… secure. Makes the earth feel a little more solid beneath the ol’ feet, heh kiddo?”

Boone nodded, his mouth full.

“S’like a fam’ly,” he mumbled through the food. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Looks after you. Feeds you. Cares about you. It’s not a bad choice, joining up. If your son was as smart as you say he was, he’d have risen in the ranks in no time – he could’ve offered us a lot.”

Tex felt his face warm and his chest tighten with something it took him a while to identify. Pride.

“Yeah. He coulda out-foxed the Legion, no problem. I bet he coulda been a code breaker or somethin’. Mind like a steel trap.”

“Sounds like you raised a good man,” Boone said. Tex was flustered by the small display of kindness and disguised the sudden thickness in his throat with a forced coughing fit, turning his attention back to his plate of beans.

...

It had all seemed so optimistic. But then, Tex’s lucky streaks never lasted for more than a few weeks.

When it went bad, it all happened so quickly that Tex couldn't get his bearings. One minute he was confronting Curtis in the tower and the next he was reaching the monorail, Boone at his side, just seconds too late.

Tex remembered what it felt like, dying. He’d died twice already. Once when the letter came, saying his son had been blown to bits. Once when that dirty rat Benny put a bullet in his head.

As he watched in horror, helpless, useless, as the monorail exploded before his widened eyes, he felt himself die a third time.

It felt different from the first time – that had been cold, like he’d been dropped in ice-water. It felt different from the second time – the lead had been white-hot as it burst through his skull.

This felt, simply, like pain. Twin jolts when his achy knees struck the ground, hard. A tight, cramping pain that ran along his limbs and constricted around his chest. His ears weren’t working right. He could see Boone kneeling beside him, feel him gripping his shoulder, and the boy was clearly shouting, but Tex couldn’t hear a thing besides a white-hot, brain-splitting ringing. His whole head throbbed and pulsed. He felt dizzy, disoriented.

I couldn’t stop it, he thought, numbing with shock. _I couldn’t find the bomb in time._

People were rushing around the platform. Tex couldn’t think, could barely see.

_Is this what Buck had had to go through, when he died? Is this what explosions did to you – knock out your faculties one by one?_

Someone was moving him… where? Didn’t matter. He was bumped and jostled and it didn’t make sense for people to go to such trouble, not for him, not after he’d failed everyone.

“Let me die here,” he mumbled.

A face momentarily came into focus – a woman. He couldn’t think who she was, though he knew they’d met. A small hand pressed something the side of his head. The cloth came away red.

Everything was fading. He was dying this time, he knew it. He couldn’t see at all. Deaf, blind, terrified, he felt nothing but his chest. He was freezing, now, like the first time, only worse.

Someone was taking his shirt off. Cold metal things were being pressed to his chest. They scraped over his nipples and he pissed himself a little with fear. Cold, inhuman. Robotic? Metal… unforgiving metal. There was a sudden blast of horrible, alien energy. He tried to scream and struggle. Death was so close – why couldn’t they just let him go?

The shock continued until suddenly he felt something change inside him. He was weak, trembling. He empty the rest of his bladder. Suddenly the half-forgotten woman grabbed him hard, pulling his sleeve up. A needle jammed into his flesh and he fell into a deep, unnatural slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if that was an accurate description of a heart attack.


End file.
